Him
by MyFrenzy
Summary: Maybe it was all about her in the first place, but right now all she wants is him. Finn/Santana. Slightly AU. Non-compliant with "Special Education". Contains strong language and mentions of sex. Oneshot.


**_Him  
_**_.  
happiness feels a lot like sorrow  
let it be, you can't make it come or go .  
._

**It **isn't as if she cares.

She doesn't.

She doesn't give a shit if they walk down the hallway hand in hand, or that she looks like a slut grinding him in class, or that they throw each other secret smiles during glee or that they write each other little notes and leave them in their lockers.

She. Does. Not. Care.

Her teeth do not grind every time he pulls a strand of her hair back, her fists do not clench every time she steals a kiss from him, her stomach does not whirl every time they laugh, nor does she want to punch or kick a wall every time Finn asks Rachel to come over tonight, because he feels like watching a movie.

She closes her eyes tight, turning over in her bed. She doesn't give a fuck. Why should she? It isn't as if she feels anything for Finn. It's not like she thinks of that night, so many months ago, a year ago, most probably, in which she slept with him, in which he told her it didn't matter in a way. It's not like it hurts her a bit more every other time it crosses her mind. It's not like she wants to get up in front of the whole Glee Club and sing him a song, make him see reason by singing a very-cheesy-most-probably-Taylor-Swift song, then when he does, he'll dump Rachel and be with her.

She doesn't dream that every night.

Her heart beats a little quicker than usual, just thinking about him. Well, thinking about not thinking about him. Her stomach's in a whirl, full of those damn butterflies, and she's giddy for absolutely no reason.

Whoever invented the "crush" feeling should go to hell and have a long talk with the antagonist of love.

Not that it is love.

I mean, she's Santana Lopez, for crying out loud. No matter what she's feeling that might possibly contradict her, she doesn't _do_ love.

She doesn't want to get up. Getting up means going to school and having to face him and his happy face with his happy slut-behind-the-face girlfriend, it meant hearing another sappy song by Rachel, and a little bewildered smile from Finn, then that meant the restroom for her and a good brushing of the teeth.

Her alarm finally goes off. It's a little continuous buzzing sound that she is grateful for every morning, because it is so loud and it takes her mind off that guy, and for a few moments she's normal Santana bitching about the alarm clock and getting up for school.

But of course, that bliss can only last so long. Her mom comes in her room yelling in Spanish for her to get her lazy ass up, it's Friday and it's not like she's going to die in school. Santana mutters something unintelligible to even herself, and her mother goes off into a rant about disrespect. Santana stands up and tells her mom to leave her alone and to join her latest fuck buddy in bed, because he must be lonely.

"_Hija del diablo_!" she yells, just like she yells every morning. Daughter of the devil, Satan's offspring, how could she have given birth to such monster?

Santana rolls her eyes and closes the door in her mother's face, proceeding to lock it. Her mom is still swearing in Spanish outside, but she could care less. She lazily proceeds to snooze her alarm clock, her heart sinking all the way to her stomach because she no longer has the comfort of a buzzing noise to make her stop thinking. Sure, she has a crazy ass mother yelling at her outside her door, but she only blocks her out, so what's the point?

She drags her feet towards her closet and picks out her Cheerio outfit. She doesn't care about her hair today, and she doesn't give a shit about what Coach Sylvester will tell her, she's just going to keep it down because her energy level is so low she doesn't think she'll be able to pick it up anyway.

She also doesn't do her make up, and she also doesn't give a shit, because it's not like she needs make up to make her hot. She had her body and her very helpful mini skirt for that. So what the hell?

She gulped as she walked out of her house with no breakfast in her stomach. Anything she ate and she just might throw it up: and not on purpose this time, either.

* * *

They're doing it again.

That thing where she grinds him in front of the whole class and he doesn't seem to mind.

She looks like a slut.

A porn star.

Something incredibly rude Santana cannot think of at this moment, because, as much as she hates to admit it, her heart is breaking. It's breaking and it pisses her off because it is not _supposed_ to be breaking.

She crosses her arm over her chest, pretending to be interested in some crap Brittany is saying about her cat, nodding every now and then, but in reality, something just occurs to her.

She wonders what would happen to them if his precious Rachel found out about what happened last year.

She wonders if she should just tell her.

But why should she tell her? Wouldn't it just hurt him? Wouldn't that just make him hate her that much more?

Wait, why should she care? She's Santana fucking Lopez, since when has she cared about what others feel about the decisions she makes? She should just tell Rachel. After all, didn't she already sleep with that other gay looking Vocal Adrenaline guy? What was his name again?

It doesn't matter, she decides, and her heart beats a bit faster when she sees Finn's shy smile. Such a wonderful smile, directed at the wrong person.

But then again, who is she to decide who the right person is?

She swallows and turns back to Britt, her best friend, her only hope to get out of this labyrinth. She smiles as if she just said something funny. Considering this is Brittany, she probably did, but she will never know, will she?

And no. She does not glance at Finn for the rest of the class period. Not once.

* * *

She catches up to him after class, once Rachel is out of sight, and hisses at him. "Finnocence, we need to have a little talk, you and me."

He looks down at her, his eyes widening like they usually do when he sees her. He gulps and looks around, then back at her. "What, Santana?"

…what, indeed? She has no idea why she stopped him. Maybe it's because she's been wanting to hear him say something to her, it doesn't matter in what tone. She closes her eyes and looks down, unsure of what to say next. Should she threaten him? Say something nice about his shoes? Kiss him?

Yeah, right.

Now she knows she's delusional.

She looks up to him and shakes her head. "Never mind" is all she says, and she walks off quickly, her heart breaking a little more every time she takes a step away from him.

What she doesn't know is how he's looking at her go with a longing look on his face: one you don't expect to see on a guy who claims to be so desperately in love.

* * *

Whatever happened to good television?

Everything Santana lands on now is all cheesy, stupid romantic comedy movies or cheesy, romantic and dramatic shows. What happened to the no plot, funny because they're pointless shows? The ones that didn't need romance to be interesting?

Because why does she need to see romance in the fiction world if she couldn't get any of that in the real world?

She is a lonely, bitter girl.

That's what she is.

She has to admit it.

What else is she going to be, anyway? She's going to end up alone and be considered a slut. Her tombstone will probably say she was a slut, and she won't even mind because, what the hell, she was!

She looks at her TV and throws some popcorn at it, then proceeds to turn it off, turning over on the couch. She mumbles something about Britt and unicorns, closing her eyes and wanting to dose off, just for a while, trying not to think about what she's feeling.

The doorbell rings. She screams in frustration and swears in Spanish: who the hell is ringing the doorbell in the middle of her nap? She stands up, wrapping a blanket around her, throwing the remote control to the floor, and dragging her feet to the door, opening it, a scowl planted on her face.

Her face immediately contorts to one of confusion. "…Finn?" His name escapes her lips in a small tone, not knowing what to make of this. She immediately composes herself though, pretending this isn't killing her, or her curiosity, anyway. "What are you doing here?" she scoffs.

He seems to be as confused as her. "I'm not sure, I—" he looks down, fidgeting with his shirt, something that Santana so dreadfully finds adorable, and his boy face, that one that has been killing her for months now, oh wow, is she dreaming…? "I'm just really…_frustrated_."

Ah. She understands now.

She swallows a sudden lump on her throat and she scoffs, keeping up the charade. "Don't you have your precious Rachel for this?" she says this with a smirk, but oh how she prays she's been his only one.

He shakes his head. "She's not…wanting to." He looks at her. "I'll do anything. Anything."

Santana looks at him for a moment, so many thoughts going through her head. Everything inside her is screaming to kiss him, to do it, and what the fuck? It isn't as if she cares about the fucking girlfriend, because, come on, she hates Rachel. Everyone in school knew this. She frowned over at him, his face begging, her heart beating quickly, her mind in a whirl. She closes her eyes and imagines what it would be like, being in his arms again, have him pant her name again, begging her for more, begging her to keep going…

She opens her eyes and smiles seductively. "Well then I think we should go upstairs, Finnocence."

He smirks.

* * *

They keep it up for a few weeks. Three months, to be exact.

He just shows up at her door and starts urgently kissing her, and she's dying because he's not actually feeling what she is when she kisses him, he's _lusting_ for her, not loving her. He'd never kiss her like he kissed Rachel in school, and no matter how good he's gotten at the sex (and he has, oh how he's so good at it now, they come at almost the exact same time now…) or how much he screams her name (and she loves it, it excites her so very much.). She has managed to convince herself this is a good thing, because she doesn't feel anything for him, it's just a major crush, one that will soon go away. One that means nothing at all, and it's useless, just fucking useless.

Because she doesn't curl herself up and cry into her pillow every time he leaves with a lame "goodbye", and she doesn't look up at her ceiling not being able to sleep and think about him, her heart doesn't hurt, no, she doesn't take a cold shower and feel the iciness run down her skin, cleaning out every single part he just touched, she doesn't rest her forehead against the shower glass and her tears don't blend with the water running down her face, because she doesn't cry.

Again, she's Santana Lopez, and she doesn't feel all this.

It's just one night, though. Just one night that changes everything.

Her nails are digging into his bare shoulders, and she's begging him to quicken his pace, please don't stop, faster…

Then he suddenly says, "I can't do this anymore."

He rolls off of her and stares at the ceiling, panting. Santana is shocked, then looks over at him, growling. "What the hell, Hudson?"

He looks over at her, his eyes glazed over, completely catching her by surprise. She scoots farther away from him. "We need to talk."

Santana shakes her head, refusing to 'talk'. "Like. Hell." She can't fucking believe this. What the hell is wrong with him? He does not stop in the middle of that, no matter if he was going to cry about his little precious girlfriend and how he feels so fucking guilty about everything. He should have thought about that three months ago.

Finn props himself up on his elbow, his breath finally slowing. "We need to talk about us."

She gives him a weary glance. "_What_?"

He nods. "About us. About…about what's been going on." Santana is about to interrupt his idiot ass, but he merely continues, ignoring her look of protest. "No, Santana, let me talk. I don't know about you, but this isn't just sex for me anymore. This is something else, something else I've been feeling when I kiss you, and I'm no longer imagining Rachel when I fuck you"—ouch—"I'm only seeing you. So I want to know what the fuck is going on here, because I'm confused as hell."

Santana can't take this. She can't take the mushy talk and she can't bear to hear him say what she thinks he's about to say, because she doesn't feel the same way. No, she doesn't. Why the fuck should she? There's nothing going on inside her head, there's no other feelings than a crush for him inside her heart, so she shouldn't take this.

Plus, she knows he deserves so much fucking better than a slutty, devil's offspring like herself.

She scoffs and shakes her head, standing up, starting to hand him his clothes. "There _is_ no "us", Hudson. We're just fuck buddies." she throws him the last of his clothes. "Please don't come to me with that sentimental crap. You've got Berry for that."

He looks hurt, and Santana's heart squeezes in pain. Oh, Jesus. Is this boy literally that clueless? Any other guy would catch her façade quickly, but he was taking it all in and believing her. Part of her feel relieved, the other part feels…like crap. Like a dirty, huge, pile of dog crap.

He stands up and looks at her. "Santana, please," his voice breaks and oh God, who the fuck invented feelings anyway? They suck, is all she can think. They suck and they are ruining her life. "Please. Tell me to my face you don't feel something for me."

She almost laughs. Oh, the irony. She would have _loved_ to tell him everything she felt a few months ago (the singing dream, oh the hilarity of it all!), tell him in front of Rachel, tell him how every single time she looks at him she feels as if she can fly, tell him how whenever they merely brush all these tingles run along her body, tell him that fucking him was the most amazing thing she's ever done in her life, tell him that her heart hurt looking at him now, tell him that maybe, just maybe, she might be falling for him, the clueless quarterback in Glee club.

But now…she knows better.

Santana looks Finn straight in the eye and spits, with all the bitterness she can muster, "I don't feel something for you."

He's crushed. She can tell. She's crushed too. Everything. After all the suffering and the pain, she finally has him where she wants him and she's letting him go. Some might call her stupid, but she's sure this is the best for him. She's not worth all the trouble and the pain he'd feel if he were with her. She's not worth his time, period.

"Now do me a huge favor and get out of my fucking life, and I hope you never come near me again. This was supposed to be fun sex, not a soap opera." Every single word she says is killing him, she knows it, and she likes it. She likes it because she's saving him, and he has no idea how much.

He looks at her sadly. "I love you, Santana."

He's gone too far.

She starts screaming at him, not knowing what she is really screaming, throwing everything she can find at him. "No!" she screams this over and over. "Stop it! Stop it, you don't love me, you love Rachel, God damn it!"

Finn doesn't move, only takes every blow from everything she throws at him silently. She starts swearing at him in spanish, knowing he is completely clueless to what she is saying. She feels all this rage and all this…this fucking love for the guy, it's not fair, it's not. Fucking. Fair.

She finally kneels down and starts doing the one thing she hates to do, the one thing she can't stand, especially in front of people:

She cries.

She cries uncontrollably and the sobs take over her. She puts her face in her hands and cries and cries, knowing it isn't fair, it isn't fair that she doesn't deserve him, that she's such a slut and a bitch and a terrible person that she just doesn't want to hurt him, it's not fair how much she feels for him, what she feels for him, it's not fair that she's going through all this for Finn fucking Hudson.

Santana suddenly feel strong arms wrap around her, strong arms that she loves to feel, hold her close and tight, and she closes her eyes and leans into Finn, because that's all she needs, she needs him, she needs everything about him, she needs him to hold her forever and ever and ever, and not let her go and not break her heart like every other single guy out there.

And there is where it all turns around to her.

She guesses this was all about her in the first place, about her being afraid of getting her heart broken like she has many times, which is why she's been so defensive about it always. Which is why she sleeps around in the first place, which is why she can't bear to commit, which is why she was afraid of falling for Finn Hudson (too late now, oh very late) in the first place. It was for her, because of her, like it'll always be, because she is such a selfish bitch.

She is supposed to scream at Finn to leave her alone, to leave her alone forever, but she wants him to stay, she wants him to hold her in her arms and kiss her gently and softly, not urgently and lustfully, she wants to feel that love for her he claims to have.

As if he reads her mind, his fingers reach for her chin and pull her face up. He looks at her for a moment. "You're so beautiful," he whispers. She scoffs, knowing this boy must be crazy, because she knows she probably looks like the bride of Frankenstein this very moment, what with tears streaks running down her face, mascara and eyeliner smeared, sex hair…

Finn strokes her cheek, then he looks away for a moment when he says, "Do you think I could kiss you?"

She stifles a laugh. Oh wow, this boy is_ truly clueless_. He still has to ask?

She grabs his face and pulls it gently towards hers, letting their lips meet softly.

And that's all she needs right now. Just to know that he means it. And as his arms wrap around her waist, as her hands tangle in his hair, as their hearts are so close together they beat at the same pace, (so quickly, like a humming mockingbird…) as they sit in the empty room of a broken hearted girl sharing their first _real _kiss, sharing their _true _feelings, their _mutual _ones, she realizes that this is exactly where she is supposed to be.

With _him_.

.  
_let it go, live your life and leave it  
then one day, wake up and she'll be home .  
._

_

* * *

_

_So it isn't one of my best, and I'm way behind on updating TGSH, but I've been obsessing over this pair for quite a while (yes, even before the episode of the Finchel break up) and it has been sitting in my computer for a long time, so I decided to go ahead and finish it._  
_I love the Finntana pairing, and I think I'll always have a soft spot for them. They're just so perfect. The bitch who pretends to not have feelings and the clueless cute guy who shows them all the time._  
_I don't know, something about them makes me giddy._  
_Anyway, review if you like._  
_I'd appreciate it._  
_By the way, the lyrics at the beginning and the end, along with the title, are supposed to be centered and look pretty. FF is being a bitch, though, so._


End file.
